Just Deserts
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: Legolas has been injured, and Thranduil and Aragorn are out for revenge.
1. Hunting

**Disclaimer: **Tolkien owns it all.

**Summary:** Legolas has been injured, and Thranduil and Aragorn are out for revenge.

Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Calenlass, for comments, suggestions, and coping with fics at awkward times. *hugs*

* * *

**Part I: Hunting**

"Hold him, my king."

Thranduil gave the healer a terse nod, tightening the arm that was wrapped around his son. In response, Legolas squeezed his hand weakly.

"Do not look so worried, _Ada_," he murmured. "I will be fine."

Thranduil managed a smile.

"I know you will be fine, Elfling. As your king, I am _ordering_ you to be fine." He glanced at the healer, before bending his head to his son's and adding, "You must be brave for me, _tithen pen_. This will hurt." Legolas nodded, snuggling even closer to him. Thranduil looked at the healer again. "Feredir – quickly."

Feredir dropped into a chair on Legolas' other side, grasping the arrow shaft protruding from the young Elf's shoulder. He worked it as gently as he could until it was free of the bone, and then pushed it through with one quick thrust. Legolas' grip on Thranduil's hand tightened painfully as he bit his lip to stifle his groan. Thranduil, looking even more agonized than his son, pressed a comforting kiss to the golden head.

"There, it is over," Feredir said soothingly, pulling the arrow out.

He went to work to stitch the wound with deft movements, while Legolas, now only half conscious, rested his head on his father's shoulder and mumbled something unintelligible.

"Hush," Thranduil whispered. He hugged Legolas closer, unmindful of the blood staining his clothes. "All will be well."

He held his son as Feredir worked, his eyes growing steadily darker. As soon as the last bandage had been secured and the healer was directing one of his assistants to pour out a sleeping draught, Thranduil gave Legolas a light squeeze and got to his feet.

"_Ada?_" Legolas came to immediate awareness. "Where are you –?"

"I have some unfinished business, _penneth_." Thranduil could not keep his emotion from his voice. The hand that rested on his sword hilt left his intentions in no doubt. "Do not fret. I will return soon."

"_Ada!_" Legolas tried to push himself out of bed, and was held down by Feredir. "_Ada_, do not – Estel, stop him!" He turned pleadingly to the man who, until then, had been watching the proceedings in silent concern. "No – wait – he will not listen to you. Find Lord Arbellason. He will be in –"

"I will deal with it," the King of Gondor replied, coming around the bed to pat Legolas' shoulder. "He will come to no harm… But drink that first." He indicated the cup Feredir was holding out.

"But – _Ada_ –"

"I will deal with it," Aragorn repeated. "Trust me. All will be well. Now drink the potion."

Legolas took the cup and drank obediently, but something in his friend's face made him frown suddenly, just before he slumped back against his pillows and his face slackened in sleep.

* * *

"Do not even _think_ of trying to stop me," Thranduil growled, not bothering to look up from sorting arrows.

"I am not –"

"Too often have I had to sit and do _nothing_ when Legolas returned home injured! It is not to be borne!"

"My king, I –"

"And _every_ time there is a plausible excuse!" Thranduil stuffed the arrows into the quiver with a carelessness that would have horrified any archer. "Last time it was something about how I should not go into battle and risk my life unnecessarily."

"I did not –"

"_Unnecessarily!_" Thranduil thundered, glaring up at Aragorn. "They let Legolas go out with just two archers, oh yes, because there is need for stealth and because he has somehow persuaded everyone that he can take care of himself, but when he comes back with an orc-arrow through him and I want to go and finish those foul creatures off they insist on sending half the army with me because otherwise it is not _safe_."

"It was not –"

"And this time it was brigands! Brigands, threatening my son in my kingdom! Legolas sent you to stop me, did he? Does the child think I am senile?"

"I am sure he –"

"Or does he think I _enjoy_ sitting worrying in the stronghold while he is out playing the heroic warrior prince?"

"I do not think –"

"I am going after them," the Elven-king said, in a soft voice that was far more terrifying than his shouting had been. "I am going after them, and I am going to ensure that they know better than to harm my son again."

"I did not come to stop you," Aragorn burst out.

If he had hoped to see Thranduil gaping at him foolishly or looking embarrassed he was disappointed. The Elven-king only grunted, "Good," and picked up his sword and whetstone.

Aragorn sat down, facing Thranduil across the table that ran the length of the armoury.

"You must not go alone, my king."

"I am not taking any guards with me," Thranduil replied, not looking up from sharpening the blade. "Those cowards attacked Legolas while he was unarmed – they would not have dared to face him otherwise. I need no soldiers to help me teach them some honour."

"I had hoped you would permit me to accompany you."

Thranduil stopped short in his work and darted a suspicious glance at the man.

"Did Legolas put you up to this?"

"No, my king. Legolas, as you guessed, asked me to stop you." At the Elven-king's raised eyebrow, he added, "I promised I would not let you come to any harm."

"You _what_?"

"It was the only way to calm him down, my king," Aragorn said hastily. "In truth, I feel much as you do. Legolas is my oldest friend, my _gwador_." He hesitated, and then drew his own sword and laid it on the table. "Also, ever since Eldarion's birth, I have been able to better understand your plight."

He reached for a whetstone, but waited for Thranduil's nod of assent before he began working his sword.

"I expect you do understand," Thranduil said.

"It has always grieved me to see any of my friends suffer, and Legolas more so than any other, but only now do I know the fears of a father." He paused. "The weapons masters tell me Eldarion is turning into a fine swordsman. I know he is; I have sparred with him. He has skill, and experience will come. Yet when the time comes for him to go on patrols…"

Thranduil's knowing smile said more than any words. For some time the two worked in silence.

"Children are fools," Thranduil said suddenly. "Especially young warriors… They rush headlong into danger, little heeding the consequences, and they do not listen to good advice."

"I have told Arwen and Legolas this," Aragorn agreed. "Legolas laughs and says he sympathizes with Eldarion. Arwen laughs and says nothing. I do not know which is worse."

"_Never_ has Legolas listened to me when I have told him to stay out of danger. I told him not to ride from Ithilien alone even if the road is more peaceful now!"

"Nor does Eldarion ever listen to me. I cannot imagine why they are so stubborn." Aragorn worked the whetstone so furiously that sparks flew. "You would think that they _want_ to make us worry."

"I am certain beyond any doubt that that has always been Legolas' aim. I cannot count the number of times I have been summoned to stand in the Healing Wards."

"And healers are so often unable to answer questions."

"They blubber and tremble like frightened children!" Thranduil held his blade to the light, examined it for a moment, and then began to hone it again. "No… To be fair, experienced healers do not… But some of the younger ones…"

"To make matters worse, Eldarion always persuades Legolas or my brothers to get him out of trouble. Whenever I wish to have a serious talk with him about his tendency to run recklessly into peril, I find him quivering and clutching an Elven-cloak, with the Elf in question looking at me as though it is _my_ fault that the child is upset."

Thranduil laughed.

"Your brothers and Legolas have spent centuries persuading Glorfindel to get them out of trouble with Elrond and Thorontur and Arbellason to intercede with me. No doubt they think it is time for them to do their part."

"And the eyes…" Aragorn complained.

"The eyes are terrible."

"_Completely _unfair."

"Legolas has always known how to get around me."

"He knows how to get around anyone, and as if _his_ knowing were not bad enough, he has taught Eldarion! I promise you, my king, the child looks _exactly_ like your son when he is attempting to wheedle indulgence out of me."

"And _then_ Legolas attempts to tell me what is too dangerous for _me_ to do!"

"Fortunately Eldarion has not come to that yet."

"He will get there," Thranduil prophesied gloomily. "When a slip of an Elf-child can tell his father, who is millennia older than him, what is too dangerous, why not Eldarion?"

"Children are fools," Aragorn said, echoing Thranduil's earlier sentiment. "We can do nothing about that, my king, but we _can_ do something about those brigands."

* * *

Legolas opened his eyes.

The room was in near darkness. A tiny chink in the curtains admitted just enough light to tell him that he was in the Healing Ward.

He turned his head slightly. His friend Saeldur was sitting in a chair by the bed, fletching arrows. It was a measure of Saeldur's skill that he could do so in the dark, although he had to devote enough attention to the task that it was some minutes before he realized Legolas was awake.

When he did, he put down the arrow and gave the Elf-prince a relieved smile.

"Good afternoon, Elfling."

"Afternoon?" Legolas rasped.

"You slept through the rest of the day and the night. Feredir gave you a strong draught." He eyed his friend critically. "It is just as well that he did – you look far better now. Are you hungry?"

"No."

"That does not matter. You will eat nonetheless." Grinning at Legolas' exasperation, Saeldur helped him sit up. "Cheer up! Barancrist has said that your injury is not serious and he will not confine you to the Healing Ward if you agree to let him put your arm in a sling without making a fuss."

"I believe I can accept that." Legolas reached with his good hand to take the tray Saeldur was holding out to him. "What are you doing here? I thought you and Eredhion were going straight to Ithilien."

"We thought our lord would not mind if we spent a few weeks in Eryn Lasgalen," Saeldur teased. "It is just as well that we are here, Elfling. At least we know you well enough to keep you out of mischief until your shoulder has healed fully. I do not believe Barancrist would have been so well-disposed to you otherwise."

"Where is my father?"

"Eat."

Legolas frowned.

"He did not go after them, did he? Estel would have stopped him – where is Estel? I thought Feredir must have sedated him and had him taken to his room."

"Eat, Elfling."

"Where are they?" Legolas asked insistently.

"They are away." Legolas and Saeldur both started in surprise at the sound of a new voice. They turned and saw that Thorontur had entered the room. "I am glad you are awake, Legolas. I was beginning to worry. How do you feel?"

"I am fine, my lord. Where have they gone?"

Thorontur favoured him with a mirthful smile.

"They left you a message bidding you not to worry. And now that you are awake, you are to take on the duties of regent until your father returns."

"But I –"

"Feredir will be here in a few minutes to look at your arm. Once he has put it in a sling, you will be able to leave the Healing Wards."

Legolas looked at him gratefully.

"I will go after them –"

"You will do nothing of the kind," Thorontur said sternly. "To begin with, you are injured. Moreover, the king has commanded you to stay here and carry out your duties as his heir."

"But –"

"There are diplomats from Rohan visiting us, as well as men from the eastern villages who are here to discuss trade terms. They were very disappointed not to be able to begin their discussions this morning. I have assured them that you will see them tomorrow."

"But Istuion can –"

"Tomorrow is also the day the king would have received petitions from the Elves who do not live in the stronghold," Thorontur went on smoothly, ignoring Legolas' interruption. "Since he is not here, you must do that."

"I have never –"

"Now I will leave you to finish your lunch. Afterwards Istuion will see you in your study to brief you on the status of the trade negotiations." With a smirk, the Elf-lord added, "I sympathize with your feelings on the matter, Legolas, but you know how forceful your father can be. Eat well."

For a few moments after he had gone, Legolas and Saeldur sat in silence. Then, turning to his friend, Legolas said, "Do you know which road they took?"

"You cannot go after them."

"I do not intend to go after them," Legolas assured him. "I only want to keep track of where they are."

* * *

"Are you tired, Estel? Do you need to rest?"

"No, my king," Aragorn replied, hiding his amusement at Thranduil's words, so much like Legolas' in the early years of their friendship, before the Elf-prince had grown accustomed to the habits and needs of Men. "We have been riding all this way. It will be some time before I need rest."

"Are you certain? Legolas has told me that Men need rest almost every hour."

"Legolas exaggerates, my king. Truly, I am perfectly able to continue."

"If you insist," Thranduil said doubtfully. "The brigands do not seem to be moving. I doubt we will fall behind even if you want to stop to rest."

"What do you plan to do with them, my king?"

"I do not know," Thranduil confessed. "What I most want to do is to make them suffer for every drop of Legolas' blood they spilled. But I have never approved of harming mortals, not unless the threat is dire and immediate; it has always seemed to me unfair. I do not want to return and have to tell Legolas that I have done precisely that."

"He would not hold it against you."

"That is true, but all the same," Thranduil mumbled, flushing and suddenly becoming _very_ interested in the bridle-straps. "I do not want to do anything that might lower his opinion of me."

"I doubt that will happen," Aragorn replied, amused. "The Elfling adores you."

"He always finds excuses when I do something I should not," Thranduil said with a chuckle. "Even when I lose my temper with him… For that I am thankful."

"You have lost your temper with Legolas?" Aragorn asked in astonishment.

The Elven-king laughed again, although this time it sounded regretful.

"It is not easy to rule a kingdom perpetually at war with the Shadow, and a king may not vent his frustration upon his subjects. There have been times when Legolas has borne the brunt of my anger."

He looked up at the trees unconsciously. Aragorn followed his gaze, but saw only still leaves overhead.

"My king, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Estel," Thranduil said, seeming startled by the unexpected question. "What is it?"

"Has Legolas ever… held anything against you?"

Thranduil shot him a sympathetic glance.

"Did you have an argument with Eldarion?"

This time it was Aragorn who coloured and looked away.

"Eldarion is impossible," he muttered. "He is unwilling to accept that he is _far_ too young to ride with the patrols in the more dangerous parts of Gondor. Even Legolas and my brothers agree that it is too soon, but he will not hear anyone! We have been at odds over this far more often than I would like."

"Is that all? Legolas _still_ claims I treat him like a child. I would not worry."

"He will have cause to complain that _you_ are one, now that we have come here without an escort and left him to worry."

Thranduil made a dismissive sound.

"One thing he will _not_ be doing is worrying. The trees are probably supplying him with a minute-by-minute account of the proceedings." His eyes gleamed wickedly, and he added, "No doubt he is aware, for instance, that at this very instant I am referring to him as a moronic child who will probably be locked in his room for the balance of his immortal life – and that is if I am merciful."

Aragorn smiled as well, but he looked slightly worried.

"I thought you asked the trees not to divulge our location."

"I did," the Elven-king reassured him. "And they will not, on the whole. But anything Legolas wants to know, the trees will tell him. There is no point trying to persuade them to do otherwise."

* * *

"Moronic child, am I?" Legolas muttered, frowning in the direction his father and his friend had taken. "We will see about that."

* * *

TBC *g*

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	2. Games

**Disclaimer: **Everything, down to the last leaf of the last tree in Eryn Lasgalen, belongs to Tolkien.

Thanks to Escape my reality, anime-catdragon, HT, DipDab500, awaylaughingonafastcamel, firehottie, invisigoth3, Thranduils Heart And Soul, Ne'ith5, Silivren Tinu, Gord and V, ElfyTheEmo, luanee and Dinelleth for the reviews. *g*

Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Calenlass.

* * *

**Part II: Games**

"_Moronic child, am I?" Legolas muttered, frowning in the direction his father and his friend had taken. "We will see about that."_

He gave the tree a grateful pat and turned away.

It had been years since he had moved to Ithilien, but years were nothing to an Elf. Frequent trips to Eryn Lasgalen to see his father had ensured that he was still as familiar with every inch of the forest as he had been when he had lived in the stronghold and been on patrol daily.

Plans were already running through his mind as he began some swift mental calculations of how long it would take for his father and Aragorn to finish dealing with the men. The shadows were already falling, and since his father had thoughtfully ensured that he would be spending most of the next day on pointless diplomacy, he did not have much time.

He hurried to his study, where Saeldur and Eredhion were waiting for him. A few minutes later, Thorontur and Arbellason, who had been more than willing to help once he had assured them that he did not intend to leave the stronghold himself, arrived as well.

Legolas took one of the maps used to set patrol routes and spread it on the table. The map showed only streams, rivers and mountains, but the Elves around the table mentally added to it every last copse, thicket and clearing in the forest.

"They are here," Legolas said, putting a small wooden horse on the map to mark the spot, "and moving. The men have made camp _here_." He added another wooden horse. "They also have a larger encampment here." A third wooden horse was put some distance away from the other two. "What we do not know is whether _Ada_ and Estel will content themselves with terrorizing the smaller encampment, or go after the large one."

"Is it wise to _let_ them go after the larger one? Even Thranduil is not invincible."

"I have already taken care of that," Legolas said, grinning. "I doubt there will be any need for it, in any case. When _Ada_ terrorizes people, the story tends to spread."

"He will not be pleased with you," Arbellason warned him.

Legolas shrugged.

"We will deal with that when he returns. I doubt he will stay angry very long."

"Anyway, that is not important now," Thorontur put in. "Knowing Thranduil, he will want to go to the larger encampment, but it will not be long before he realizes that you have told the trees to keep him away from it."

* * *

"There they are," Aragorn murmured.

"Yes," Thranduil hissed, drawing his sword with no noise but all the menace of an entire army under the command of the Witch-King of Angmar. "Let us go."

Without warning, he leapt up into a tree. Aragorn stared into the branches, and thought he saw the flash of moonlight on steel. Knowing that he would never be able to move through the treetops with as much stealth as the King of the Woodland Realm, he threaded his way through the forest to the edge of the clearing where the brigands had pitched their tents, taking care to stay out of sight of their guards.

There he stood, not wanting to deprive himself of the sight of their first reaction to Thranduil.

There was dead silence for some moments; even the night-insects seemed to have stilled in their murmuring as they waited for the fury of the Elven-king to break.

Without warning, all the fires in the encampment went out at once, as though in a sudden gust of wind. The night was filled with cries and exclamations from the men, silenced when someone, probably the leader, snapped, "Be _quiet_, you fools! If there is an enemy you will lead him straight to us!"

The trees around the edge of the clearing seemed to draw closer together, their branches and leaves an impenetrable mesh. In the centre of the clearing, the men huddled back-to-back in a ragged circle. They were in a pool of moonlight, the only light now that the fires had gone out, and Aragorn could see them striving vainly to make out who or what was coming through the darkness around them.

The branches rustled. Aragorn was certain they were doing it on Thranduil's command. It sounded as though a horde of evil nocturnal creatures was hurrying through the trees.

The men were trembling visibly.

Without warning, Thranduil leapt from a branch to land on the ground very close to them. His feet made no noise as they hit the earth. He held his sword in one hand, unsheathed. Moonlight glinted off the edge of the blade.

Aragorn could not see the Elven-king's face, but the men in the clearing looked petrified at the sight of it. Normally a band of over a dozen marauders would have taken on any lone warrior, mortal or Elf. The men, instead of attacking, edged away from the Elven-king.

Deciding that it was finally time to make his presence known, Aragorn strode from his place to stand beside Thranduil. The men only looked marginally more afraid.

Aragorn stole a sideways glance at his companion. The Elven-king's mouth was a thin line, his eyes reflecting the rage Aragorn himself felt at thought that anyone should be so cowardly as to attack a lone, unarmed traveller, at the thought that the victim was his closest friend. Even Thranduil's golden warrior braids seemed to be bristling with anger.

"Where are you from?" Thranduil asked quietly. None of the men answered. The Elven-king waited several seconds before he repeated the question.

Finally, one of them mustered up the courage to speak.

"M-Minas Tirith."

Other than a swift, startled glance in Aragorn's direction, Thranduil did not react visibly to that information.

"I see. And you are the ones who attacked a young Elf passing through the forest –"

"Please!" one of the men burst out. "Please, do not hurt us! We meant no harm! We are passing through this land and we did not know your ways –"

"I was not aware that it was the way of Gondor to attack innocent travellers," Aragorn said coldly.

The men looked at him closely for the first time. They did not recognize him, but they clearly realized that he was not an Elf. They relaxed openly, assuming that he would be on their side.

"He was one of _them_," responded the man who had evidently appointed himself spokesman, bobbing his head in Thranduil's direction. "We hoped that if we took him alive we might be able to treat with their king for hunting rights in the forest."

"Why did you want hunting rights in Eryn Lasgalen?" Aragorn asked, curious despite himself.

The man shrugged.

"The road north is well used now. We had hoped to… to set up an inn along the road, for wayfarers."

Aragorn ignored the obvious lie and demanded, "What has that to do with hunting in the forest? If you need food you can have supplies sent from the nearest village."

"That is expensive," the man said; from his tone, he considered that obvious. "And the Elf looked like he was somebody important – a young lord, perhaps, or a member of their king's court. We were certain that if we took him alive we could use him to bargain with the Elves. It was foolish of him to ride alone."

Thranduil's eyes sparkled dangerously; Aragorn, in his opinion, had earned the right to refer to Legolas as a foolish child, but the men were treading on dangerous ground.

"We could not take him," the man said quickly. "Even unarmed, he fought us. We _did_ injure him, but I expect he will live."

"He _will_ live," Thranduil growled, his tone making the men cower. "And you can be grateful for that. If there were still even the slightest danger to his life, I assure you that you would not escape with yours." The men stared at him in growing horror. "You say you do not know our ways? I will enlighten you. Anyone who enters my kingdom and harms my son suffers for it."

"You – you are the Elven-king?" the man asked his voice high and fearful. "Please – Your Majesty – we did not know that he was your son. You must believe us. If we had known –"

"Enough!" Thranduil spat. "You do yourselves no service by grovelling."

* * *

Legolas grimaced at himself in the mirror, letting Saeldur fasten his cloak.

"Be reasonable, Feredir! What will they think if I meet them with my arm bound as though I were a boisterous child?"

"I have no idea," Feredir said cheerfully. "That is not the question that should concern you, Elfling. What _you _should worry about is what they will think if, for instance, your stubbornness leads a frustrated healer to confine you to your room for the next week!"

Legolas scowled at him. The scowl deepened when Saeldur laid his silver circlet on his head.

"I do not need –"

"Of course you do," Saeldur interrupted, even more cheerfully than Feredir. "Just imagine what they will think if you meet them improperly dressed."

"What did my father offer you to do this to me?" Legolas demanded balefully.

Saeldur and Feredir laughed.

"He did not offer us anything," Feredir said. "He did not need to. Once we knew what he had in mind, we were more than happy to oblige."

Before Legolas could respond, Thorontur entered.

"Is he ready?" Then he noticed the Elf-prince and grinned. "Let me see you, _penneth_."

Muttering something involving the word 'unfair', Legolas stepped away from Saeldur and turned so that Thorontur could see him fully.

The Elf-lord's grin turned to one of appreciation. Necessity had dictated that the formal garb of the realm's active warriors be as unrestrictive as possible, in case of an unexpected attack. Everything about Legolas, down to the ceremonial but extremely effective dagger tucked into his belt, suggested readiness for action. The sling around his arm did very little to mitigate the effect.

"Very good. Are you ready to see them?"

Legolas hesitated.

"Let me go out and speak to the trees first. I will not run away," he added irritably, as all three Elves looked at him with deep suspicion. "I only want to know what is happening to _Ada_ and Estel."

"Just remember, Elfling," Saeldur said, "this is entirely _your_ idea."

* * *

"I never knew you were that… _skilled_," Aragorn breathed, his voice an awed hush.

Thranduil favoured him with a lopsided grin.

"You were not entirely clumsy yourself, Estel."

"I was not hampered by any scruples about attacking Men," the King of Gondor said with an answering smile. "I believe they have learnt their lesson – you will not be troubled by them again, my king."

"I hope not. _Next_ time they will not find me so… merciful." Aragorn laughed, and Thranduil turned to him in polite enquiry. "What?"

"It is only that you say something similar to Legolas _every_ single time he does something, but when the time comes and he is looking at you with all the false repentance he can muster, you give in."

"That is true," Thranduil conceded. "Or it has been, in the past. But it will not be so the next time."

"The next time Legolas does something?"

"Yes," the Elven-king said firmly. "The next time Legolas does something, I will be stern. I will communicate my displeasure."

"It does not count if you apologize five minutes later, my king."

Thranduil scowled.

"Impudent mortal! I have never apologized to Legolas five minutes after chastising him."

"When you go and wait in his room with a bottle of his favourite wine and offer to help him polish his knives, it is an apology."

"I have only done that _once_."

"Once this year, or once this month?"

"Once in my son's life," Thranduil growled. "You cannot include that Midwinter when you were here – he was going on a patrol. I had to help him. You cannot expect me to let my son go out to possible battle with faulty weapons."

"Because of course the armourers would have let that happen."

"Armourers!" Thranduil said contemptuously. "Am I likely to trust Legolas' safety to _armourers_?" Then, changing tack before Aragorn could ask more inconvenient questions, he said, "I have not heard that you are any better when it comes to Eldarion."

"_I_ have extenuating circumstances." Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Indeed I do, my king. Your son is an extenuating circumstance all by himself, and then there are my brothers… and Gimli."

"The Dwarf as well?"

"Nearly as unreasonable as Legolas when it comes to spoiling my children."

"Perhaps he is not _all_ bad," Thranduil said reflectively.

"Be that as it may," Aragorn said with dignity, "do you truly tell me that the next time Legolas does something, you will _not_ surrender the fight immediately?"

"Define 'immediately'."

"Twenty-four hours," Aragorn said.

He expected the Elven-king to protest – Legolas' very worst crimes had not earned him more than a few hours of his father's displeasure – but, to his surprise, Thranduil nodded.

"A bottle of Dorwinion on it?"

"Agreed," Aragorn said. Then, suspicious of his companion's rapid acquiescence, he added, "And you will forfeit if you tell Legolas of our wager and persuade him to act out a charade for my benefit."

Thranduil opened his mouth, probably to protest, but the words died on his lips as something caught his eye.

"My king?" Aragorn whispered.

"The forest is different."

"_What?_"

Aragorn whirled around in horror and saw that the Elven-king was right. The trees were the same – to his eye, anyway – but the paths in and out of them seemed to be different. It was as though the forest itself had changed. The path behind them had disappeared without a trace, yet he could have sworn that every tree and pebble was precisely where it had been.

He heard an odd sound beside him and turned. Thranduil was staring up at the leaves overhead with unusually bright eyes. It took Aragorn a moment to realize that his companion was _amused_.

"My king?" he said, fearing for Thranduil's sanity.

"Can you not sense it?" Thranduil chuckled, gesturing at the trees. "They are not remotely disturbed. This is only a game. Legolas has put them up to this. He is probably trying to avenge himself on us for going without him." He shook his head. "It appears that we will be able to settle our wager very soon."

* * *

_And you are certain there is no danger?_

_Yes, Elfling,_ the tree said, exasperated. _It is perfectly safe. I thought you trusted us!_

_I do trust you,_ Legolas responded. _It is just… He is not used to you as I am. He will have a far harder time with it. And I do not want them to do themselves any harm._ He hesitated, biting his lip. _Perhaps we should call it off._

_Call it off? Certainly not!_

_But –_

_You go in and do whatever you have been told to do, Elfling. They will come to no harm. How could they? Your father, unlike you, listens to us when we tell him that this or that path is too dangerous. We will keep them to a safe route._

_Are you –_

_YES!_

With a small smile and a shake of his head, Legolas went back inside to meet the traders.

* * *

"Which way?"

Thranduil looked around, frowning in thought.

"My king?" Aragorn asked again. "Which way?"

"It does not matter," Thranduil said slowly. "This must be Legolas' doing – nobody else would be able to persuade the trees to do this. If I know my son – and you know him as well – whatever he wants us to see, we will see, no matter which route we take."

"If this _is_ Legolas' work, any path will be safe. But how…?"

Aragorn looked right and left helplessly. There _had_ been paths; now there was only moss on the forest floor.

"Choose the one that looks most picturesque," Thranduil suggested, "and let us go. The sooner we start, the sooner I can tell Legolas what I think of him."

* * *

Legolas himself was at that moment sitting at the head of a long table, with one of his father's advisors on his right and the leader of the traders on his left, thinking uncharitable thoughts of his father and his friend. Halfway down the table, one of the men was making a speech to which the Elf-prince was paying only the most perfunctory attention.

Legolas leaned forward, uncomfortably aware of his cloak. It was longer and looser than the short cloaks favoured by the archers.

"Not much longer, Legolas," the Elf to his right breathed in a voice too soft to be heard by any of the Men. "He is nearing the end."

"I do not know why you even need me, Norgalad," Legolas murmured back.

"We need you because the visitors need to see somebody wearing the signet. You _know_ how finicky Men are about protocol – they are just as bad as Noldor! Now pay attention."

Suppressing a sigh, Legolas focused his gaze on the man who was speaking.

"… We have, moreover, Prince Legolas, every faith that you will find our goods as acceptable as you have always done. For the past fifty years we have been supplying the cloth for warriors' cloaks and…"

"I thought it was another trader who supplied that cloth?" Legolas whispered. "I distinctly remember meeting him a few seasons ago."

"Twenty years ago, if my memory serves me correctly," Norgalad muttered with a slight frown. "This is his son. _This_ is why you should attend more meetings. He can see that you are distracted, now, Legolas. _Listen_ to him. I cannot imagine what your father is going to do with you."

Legolas listened. Finally, the speech appeared to be nearing its conclusion.

"… And so I hope that you will find our new terms acceptable." The man paused, and the delegate sitting next to Legolas handed him a thick sheaf of papers. "I know you will want to study them before we have any further discussions. One of our scribes has added an explanation of the changes in our trade laws since our last agreement was signed."

Legolas tried not to look alarmed at the sight of the papers covered with tiny, cramped writing. Before he could say anything, he spotted, out of the corner of his eye, Saeldur standing in the courtyard below and gesturing up to him. It took Legolas only a few seconds to understand what his friend wanted to tell him. As soon as he did, his fingers tightened on the papers he held. He lowered his head before anyone could see his expression.

Norgalad nudged him, and he hastily said, "Thank you very much. I will – that is – perhaps you are hungry? Food and drink will be provided in your rooms… But if you would prefer to visit the dining hall…"

"I thank you, no," the leader of the delegates said firmly. "We would be most grateful if food could be sent to our rooms."

Legolas got to his feet. At once, everyone else did the same, Istuion hurrying out first to act as guide to any of the men who had forgotten the way. Legolas himself waited politely until the men had left; then he hastened to the window and vaulted over the sill. The last thing he heard as he made his way down to the ground was a disapproving sniff from Norgalad.

* * *

_And for the last time, you misbegotten weed, will you help me or will you not?_

_I am NOT a weed!_

Thranduil forced himself to take several deep, calming breaths. He knew that there was no point losing his temper with the tree. Trees were simple things. They grasped simple ideas. The trees in his kingdom had all grasped the idea that they should do as Legolas told them. Normally Thranduil felt pleased about that, but there were times, such as this one, when the trees' stubborn obedience could be infuriating.

_Which way should we go?_

_I should say – oh. Wait._

The tree was silent for several seconds. Thranduil grew impatient. Beside him, Aragorn went suddenly tense, grasping the hilt of his sword and peering through the trees as though expecting an intruder.

_There are new instructions from the Elfling_, the tree said finally.

_Instructions? My son is giving me _instructions_? _Thranduil could barely contain himself. _You can tell him that when I get my hands on him, he will know a thing or two about instructions. He will – _

_Peace. _The tree sounded amused. _The instructions were not for you. They were for us._

_Oh. _Thranduil paused. _That is even worse._

"My king," Aragorn said, suddenly, urgently. "My king, someone is coming."

Thranduil listened, and heard what his conversation with the tree had prevented him from registering. Someone, or something, was moving through the undergrowth. The tread was not stealthy enough for an animal, too heavy to be a man…

The Elven-king backed slowly away from the direction of the sound.

He and Aragorn drew their swords together, exchanging a sheepish glance as they did so. Neither believed that Legolas would deliberately send them into any kind of danger, but then Legolas had very strange ideas about what constituted 'danger'. _Anything_ might be coming through those trees.

The footsteps gained speed as they drew nearer.

Thranduil shifted his grip, raising his sword to an attacking position.

There was a shuffling sound, and something burst through the dense undergrowth. The Elven-king's eyes went wide with shock.

* * *

TBC

* * *

**Sindarin Translations**

_Ada_ – Dad/Daddy

_Penneth_ – Young one

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	3. Consequences

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine. Please don't sue. I haven't any money anyway.

Thanks to invisigoth3, DipDab500, Ethurill, Gord and V, Silivren Tinu, Thranduils Heart And Soul, RadioactiveSquirrel, Ocean's Nocturne of the COCA, Lady Ambreanna, firehottie, W1zersG1ml!1, Ohtar Vicky and Dinelleth for reviewing.

Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Calenlass. *hugs*

And now to the final part…

* * *

**Part III: Consequences**

"I take it that there _will_ be a bottle of Dorwinion on the outcome of our wager?" Aragorn asked, his lips twitching beneath his beard.

"A bottle of Dorwinion?" Thranduil hissed. "Oh, yes, I will have that Dorwinion. Trying to confuse me and delay my return would have been bad enough by itself, but _this_… I would never have expected this of my own son!" He glared at the intruder. "Legolas will face my displeasure for this."

"Very good, my king," Aragorn said solemnly. "And what should we do about _that_?"

He pointed with his sword, causing the subject of their conversation to give vent to a menacing growl and wave the battle-axe he clasped in his right hand.

"Be easy, Gimli," Aragorn protested at once, sheathing his sword and raising his hands in surrender. "I meant no offence. I have the greatest possible respect for you. But I also have respect for the anger of the Elven-king, which I have just been privileged to witness. I would not dream of welcoming you to his kingdom without first ascertaining if he desired that you should be made welcome." He glanced at Thranduil. "My king?"

"Master Dwarf," Thranduil said stiffly, sliding his sword into its sheath. "What are you doing so far from the road?"

"Looking for the road," Gimli responded, with an effort at friendliness. "I was on my way to your stronghold to visit your son – or I thought I was. We stopped for the night, and in the morning…" He waved his hands. "The road had just disappeared. Vanished! We were trying to find our bearings."

"_We?_" Thranduil asked, trying not to sound too inhospitable. "There are more of you?"

"Two of my kinsmen are travelling with me." Gimli hesitated. "I do not know if your customs permit me to bring foreigners into your realm unannounced, but Legolas knew of them. He assured me you would not mind."

"Legolas is in disgrace," Thranduil growled. "As soon as we return to the stronghold, Legolas is going to be demoted to stable-hand. He will be lucky if I do not summon him before my council for insubordination, indiscipline and treason. If you come to my kingdom as Legolas' friend, you are assured of a cold reception."

"Do not worry," Aragorn said, in response to Gimli's alarmed expression. "He does not mean a word of it – and if he does, he will change his mind as soon as he is confronted with Legolas."

"Not this time," Thranduil snarled. "_How_ could he – with no warning – I do not know what he was thinking!" He paused, seemed to collect himself, and said, "If you will bring your kinsmen here, Master Dwarf, I will see what I can do about finding the way to the stronghold. Unless Legolas has told the trees to go out of their way to misdirect us, it should not take long." As the Dwarf hurried away, he heard the Elven-king bellow, "I will deal with my son as I please, you infernal weed! And you will not interfere!"

Gimli was exceptionally glad that he was not Legolas.

* * *

"Anytime now," Legolas said softly. Saeldur, who was stretched out on a branch beside him, straightened. "They will pass directly beneath us soon. From here, it will take them until noon, at least, to reach the stronghold. We can be there long before them."

_Your father is angry, Elfling,_ the tree warned him.

Legolas grinned.

_He will not stay angry long. He never does._

_He may, this time. _The tree pulled its branches closer together, screening them, as they heard the faint sound of horses' hooves in the distance. _He would not have minded so much if you had only made him spend another night in the forest – but that you forced him to do so in the company of three of the Bearded Ones…_

_Men are bearded, _Saeldur said with amusement.

_You know what I mean. _The tree lowered more foliage around them. _If he exiles you, Elfling, you can stay with us._

_Exile!_ Legolas exchanged a startled glance with his friend. _I do not think it will come to that. But he must be angry if he even spoke of it. _He bit his lip. _Perhaps I should not have… But I did not see the harm. After all, he ensured that I had to spend hours in those forsaken negotiations._

"Do not worry about it," Saeldur murmured. "Even if he _is_ angry, it will not last."

Then he fell silent: they had both glimpsed the shadowy figures approaching through the trees. Thranduil and Aragorn were walking their horses; even then, the three stocky Dwarves behind them were clearly out of breath.

Almost directly underneath them, Thranduil stopped.

He looked up into the branches of the tree. Legolas and Saeldur held as still as only trained Elven warriors could. In their green and brown clothes, they merged invisibly into the background. With the tree aiding their deception, not even Elven eyes could have spotted them.

Yet Legolas had a strange feeling that his father knew exactly where he was, even if he could not see them.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed as he continued to stare up at the leaves. Legolas waited, not daring even to breathe. Finally, shaking his head angrily, the Elven-king drew away from the tree and stalked away.

Legolas let himself slump back against the tree trunk.

"We are not doing this again," Saeldur said firmly. "I have lived through centuries of war, and I would now like to live to see Valinor."

_I did warn you_, the tree mumbled.

* * *

Thranduil was not surprised to find that the guards got hastily out of his way. Even the young Elf who hurried forward to take his and Aragorn's horses did not meet his eyes. His brow furrowed as he looked around the courtyard: Legolas, who would normally have been there to meet him, was nowhere in sight.

"Do you want to go to your room first?" Thranduil asked abruptly. "Or would you prefer to come find Legolas with me? You must be tired; if you want I can have you shown –"

"I will help you look for Legolas, my king," Aragorn said firmly. "We have a wager, after all."

"Wager?" Gimli enquired. "What wager?"

Thranduil's blue eyes turned on him; a few years ago, Gimli would have quailed under that gaze, but he had had time to grow accustomed to it.

"What wager?" he repeated.

Thranduil muttered something about the stubbornness of Dwarves, but he answered the question.

"Estel is under the impression that I am an idiot where my son is concerned, and that I let Legolas get away with any mischief with only the mildest of reprimands. I am going to disabuse him of that idea."

Gimli stared.

"The lad's going to be punished? For _this_? My king, it is hardly –"

Just in time, he caught Aragorn's eye and fell silent. Thranduil favoured him with a stern look, as though _he _were the one about to be punished, before leading the way indoors.

"This may have been harmless mischief," the Elven-king snapped as he stalked through the corridors. "But there has been far too much of it! I am tired of my son and everyone else treating me like an invalid. I may be king, but that does not mean I am incapable of fighting when the need arises!" He glared at them. "Only fifty years ago I sparred with Legolas and defeated him. Of course, Thorontur made noises about how my son is not a swordsman. The point is that I won." Gimli nodded fervently. "Nobody tells _me_ what I cannot do!"

"My king," Aragorn said, sounding apprehensive, "I wonder if we should call off the wager –"

"Call off the wager?" Thranduil enquired, lifting an eyebrow. "Why? Do not tell me that you are trying to get Legolas out of trouble."

"My king, perhaps –"

"It will do no good! The boy has had it coming for decades! He grows foolish and irresponsible!"

By this time, they had reached Thranduil's study. He threw the door open, not looking remotely surprised to see two Elves sitting in the antechamber waiting for him. Gimli recognized both of them from his previous visits.

"Thranduil," one said, getting to his feet. "We have to talk –"

"Later," the Elven-king said curtly. "Where is Legolas?"

The Elves exchanged a glance.

"He will be here soon. In the meantime –"

"I want to see him now. We can talk after that."

The other Elf nodded, and said, "Eredhion, Voronwë, find Legolas. Tell him to come here at once. The King is waiting for him."

Two Elves moved from where they had been sitting in the shadows by the fireplace. Gimli started: he had not noticed them earlier. He knew them. They were Legolas' friends, who dwelt with him in Ithilien. However, they did not say a word to him – or to anyone else – before the left the room so quickly it seemed like they were fleeing it.

"My king –"

"We can talk in my study," Thranduil said. None of them, not even the other two Elves, dared disobey. In utter silence, they filed into the Elven-king's study.

* * *

"Legolas, are you –"

"I am _fine_," Legolas snapped, leaping out of the trees. "_Hurry. _We are already late – _Ada_ must be there waiting."

"We _would_ have been in time if you had not insisted on stopping to deal with those spiders –"

"We had to deal with them," Legolas protested. "The forest is supposed to be free of them! I only wish I knew how they lasted this long – if we had left them and they had bred, it would have undone all our work –"

"I know that," Saeldur said impatiently. "But we could have sent someone back for them." He shot Legolas a worried glance. "Never mind that – it is done, and we will handle the consequences. Are you all right?"

"I am fine. It is only a scratch. I will clean it before I go see _Ada_."

"You will – where are you going?"

"The back way," Legolas grunted, opening a hidden door in the wall surrounding the stronghold and gesturing Saeldur through. "If _Ada_ is in his study, he will be able to see the courtyard. It is dangerous to go in that way. I can climb up to my room from here."

"Are you insane? Feredir will kill you if the king does not! It was bad enough going out before your shoulder had healed!"

Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Unless you are going to complain to Feredir or the king, there is no reason for either of them to know. It is just a scratch. I will wash off the blood and bandage my ribs. It will not even show under my tunic. Nobody will suspect a thing. Are you going to help me or not?"

Saeldur sighed.

"You know I will help you. But it would benefit us all if you could do as you are told, just once. It might even be a novel experience."

With some help from Saeldur, Legolas managed to scramble up the rocks to his balcony. The door was bolted on the inside, but the window had been left unlatched against precisely such a contingency. Saeldur clambered through it and opened the door for Legolas.

"Quickly," he said, hustling his friend into the room and helping him off with his tunic. "Fortunately there is no blood on your cloak – a fresh tunic should be enough." He paused to examine the wound. "You are right, for once, Elfling. It _is_ just a scratch. It certainly bled enough for a cut twice as deep! Hold still." He riffled through Legolas' cupboard, finally locating a basket full of healing herbs and cloth for bandages.

Saeldur cleaned and bandaged the cut quickly. Legolas got into his tunic with some difficulty – his shoulder was still stiff – and let his friend fasten his cloak.

As they were about to leave the room, the door burst open. Eredhion stood outside, breathing hard.

"Legolas – finally! We thought you would never get back – no, never mind," he added, waving aside Saeldur's explanation. "It does not matter. Whatever he has done to himself, he can explain it to the healers later. Now we must hurry – the king is here and he is not amused! Voronwë will meet us outside the king's study."

* * *

It had been close to an hour, and nobody had said anything. Thranduil sat by the fireplace, his expression growing increasingly thunderous as he contemplated the empty hearth. Thorontur and Arbellason, sitting with him, looked far more worried than Aragorn had ever seen them, although they were still calmer than he himself felt.

Gimli _did_ look nervous, and his companions appeared terrified. Aragorn could not blame them.

Just as the silence grew unbearable, there was a knock at the door.

Aragorn jumped, startled. He had not heard footsteps outside; he had not even heard the outer door open. Thranduil, muttering something under his breath, got to his feet, strode to the door, and threw it open.

Outside it stood four young Elves.

Legolas and Saeldur stood in the middle. Both wore cloaks that were as dusty as Elves ever allowed their garments to get. Saeldur's tunic was dusty as well, but Legolas' was far cleaner. Aragorn strongly suspected that his friend had changed his tunic before coming to meet his father. The faint bulge that his trained eyes could detect underneath it told him why.

Flanking Legolas and Saeldur stood Eredhion and Voronwë. All four of them looked thoroughly shamefaced. Their expressions were so similar that for a moment Aragorn had to wonder if it was a charade for Thranduil's benefit. Legolas and his friends were probably not repentant in the least.

"Well?" Thranduil said coldly. "Explain yourself, Legolas."

"My king?"

"This is not the time for your games," Thranduil responded. "I am waiting for an answer. Explain yourself."

Legolas darted a glance up at his father's face. Whatever he saw in it obviously surprised him. He lowered his eyes again, cheeks colouring. But none of the young _ellyn_ answered Thranduil.

The Elven-king looked from one of them to the other. When there were no signs of a response, he said, even more coldly, "We can stand here all day if you want, Legolas. But we _will_ stand here until you have provided me with an explanation for your actions."

"What actions, my king?"

For a moment Aragorn was shocked by Legolas' daring; then he realized that his friend was hoping that the Elven-king's eyes had missed the bulge that his own had seen. However angry Thranduil might be at being forced to fumble through the forest with three Dwarves, he would be far angrier if he realized that his son had hurt himself through inattention or carelessness.

"Legolas," Thranduil snapped, in a tone that Aragorn had never heard him take with his son before, "I will have an answer _now_."

"My king?"

"_Legolas._"

For several seconds no one spoke. Then Legolas dropped gracefully to one knee, his head bowed and his cloak fanning out behind him.

"Forgive me, my king."

There was a pause for the space of a heartbeat. Without warning, Saeldur knelt as well, followed at once by Eredhion and Voronwë. Aragorn refrained with difficulty from rolling his eyes.

Thranduil crossed his arms. He was looking at the four Elves before him without the slightest sign of amusement. He was clearly as well aware as Aragorn that they were not at all sorry and would quite happily shut Thranduil and Gimli's kinsmen alone in a room for an hour if they got the opportunity.

"Since you are at such pains to conceal the bandages under your tunic, Legolas, I take it you left the stronghold against the advice of the healers?"

Silence.

"Legolas?"

"Yes, my king," Legolas mumbled.

"And then you got yourself into some kind of trouble by being foolish."

Legolas' flush deepened. Before he could say anything, though, Saeldur looked up and replied, "It was not entirely his fault, my king. There were –"

"I do not want to know the details. Leave us."

Legolas got to his feet, startled.

"My king, I –"

"I am not going to discuss it, Legolas. Leave."

"But –"

"_Go._"

Legolas flinched. Before Aragorn could go out and speak to his friend, Thranduil shut the door firmly and gave him a light shove in the direction of the Dwarves, who were standing and watching him open-mouthed.

Aragorn went to talk to the Dwarves, wishing he had not made that wager with the Elven-king.

* * *

Aragorn was not certain what time it was.

When Legolas had not appeared in the dining hall in the evening, Aragorn had not been unduly concerned – the Elf-prince could easily have had his dinner sent to him in his room. He had probably done so in order to stay out of his father's way until he had had time to calm down.

Immediately after dinner he had gone to check Legolas' room and found it empty. The young Elf's bow and quiver were still there, suggesting that he had not left the stronghold. Aragorn knew it would be useless to search for him, though. He would only get lost in the maze of tunnels and passages. He hoped Legolas was with one of his friends of with Thorontur, who would keep him from doing anything foolish.

Aragorn had returned to his room, to bed but not to sleep. He had lain awake, listening for footsteps in the corridor outside, but there had been nothing.

Finally, tired of waiting, he got out of bed and went out.

He opened Legolas' door without knocking. A glance was enough to tell him that the sitting-room was empty. He crossed it and entered the bedroom. That was empty as well.

Aragorn was about to leave, when he realized that the balcony door had been pushed shut but was not locked. Hoping that he would find his friend on the balcony, he practically ran across the room and threw the door open.

For a moment he thought there was nobody. Then he saw the two golden heads gleaming where two Elves sat together in the moonlight.

Thranduil was sprawled with his back to the parapet, an open book in his lap. The lantern beside him appeared to have gone out some time ago. He saw Aragorn, smiled in welcome and beckoned him closer. A glance at Legolas told Aragorn why the Elven-king had not spoken: the young archer's eyes were wide and glazed as he walked in Elven dreams.

Aragorn dropped into a crouch on Legolas' other side, careful not to wake him.

"How long did you last?" he asked softly.

Thranduil chuckled.

"Until dinner, but that was only because I could not find him before that. I will tell Galion to give you the wine."

Aragorn grinned at him over Legolas' head.

"I do not want the wine, my king. I have spent the past few hours in agony thinking you would hold out for twenty-four hours. I would then have had to explain the wager to Legolas. I cannot imagine that that would have been a comfortable conversation."

"I told him about that."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, looking so much like his foster-father that Thranduil laughed again.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing," the Elven-king replied. "I think he will wait to bring it up when he is truly in trouble – or when he is truly angry with me."

"You and Legolas have not had a serious argument for _decades_."

"Precisely. It cannot last." Thranduil looked up at the stars. "We should get him to his bed, I think. And then you can go and get some sleep as well, Estel. You were too nervous to sleep much last night."

With anyone else Aragorn would have pointed out that he was King of Men and would go to bed when he wanted, but he did not have the courage to say that to Thranduil. He doubted that even Éowyn would have the courage to say that to Thranduil.

He wished idly that he could think of some way to revenge himself on Faramir for showing Eldarion all the secret passages out of Minas Tirith.

A happy thought struck him.

"Why do you not spend Midsummer in Ithilien, my king? It is beautiful. Legolas has long wanted you to see what he has done with it – and you will meet Faramir and Éowyn." He paused meaningfully. "Legolas and Faramir have grown to be very good friends."

"Have they, indeed?" A dangerous sparkle returned to the Elven-king's eyes. "I should like to meet this Faramir. Legolas has mentioned him."

Aragorn smiled brightly.

"It would be my pleasure to introduce you to him, my king."

* * *

The End

* * *

I wouldn't want to be in Faramir's shoes come Midsummer. *g*

What did you think? Good? Bad? Should have ended after one chapter? Please review!


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